


A Little Less Broken

by lyonessheart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Feels, Anhedonia, Depressed Draco Malfoy, Friendship to Lovers, H/D Sex Fair 2020, Harry Potter Has PTSD, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Spiked drink, Undiagnosed Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26733625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyonessheart/pseuds/lyonessheart
Summary: After the war Draco thought he would never feel again. But a mix of revenge gone wrong and Harry Potter, might help him to feel just a little less broken.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 28
Kudos: 162
Collections: 2020 Harry/Draco Sex Fair





	A Little Less Broken

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt [#194](https://docs.google.com/document/d/12_5f6f0xUXhqtWfMlhXRyA8kDC3KGShN3oa_IOD12DY/edit#).
> 
> Dear Prompter I hope you like what I came up with. A huge thanks goes to my beta who helped me make this a round story. S you know I could not have done it without you!

Ever since the war ended, he is walking in a fog so dense that nothing penetrates it. Coming back to Hogwarts as a stipulation for his probation period should have terrified him, or at least make him feel remorse for the pain he inflicted on those that have been afflicted by his actions, but there is nothing.

He can’t feel. He has tried, oh, how he has tried to feel anything other than this numbness, but not even cutting into the disgusting reminder of his past mistakes over and over again made him feel anything. Dispassionately he watched the red blood drip onto the dirt, until his mother found him and cried out in distress. She healed the wounds and he just watched her out of empty eyes.

It is as if he is dead and gone, while his body hasn’t received the message yet. He is but a ghost in the flesh.

When he returned to Hogwarts, he kept out of the way of others, trying to make them feel more comfortable about him being there. He is aware that he reminds them of the evil that once sullied the school and his part in those horrors. He knows he should atone still, there are no words forthcoming, no actions that allow him to show that he will be better in the future.

He is a walking affront to the survivors of the war. But he can’t bring himself to care about anything. So he walks through day after day, week after week in the fog that keeps him isolated from the rest of the world.

He wakes, attends class, eats, does his assignments and goes to bed. He doesn’t think that this will change until the end of his eight year.

Oh, how wrong he is…

\---------------

As soon as Draco opens his eyes he knows that today is one of the _bad_ days. He has eight hours of sleep but still feels as if there has not been any rest at all. His muscles feel cramped and stiff, as if he has been running from invisible ghosts chasing him all night. Just the thought of getting up and going through his morning ablutions makes him want to bury under the covers and return to sleep.

His roommates are already up and move through the shared room, conversation filters through the hangings of the four poster bed. Only the thought of the unlikely case of someone checking in on him and questioning why he has not moved at all makes it possible to move his tired body out of bed and walk into the bathroom. He takes a shower, because he remembers that he used to care a lot about his appearance and doesn’t want others to grow too suspicious about his changed looks. It is bad enough that he doesn’t put much effort into his hair any longer. It grows, it gets washed and dried. He cuts it regularly, because he doesn’t want to resemble his father too much, but that is it.

By now he is alone in the room that he shares with the other returning eight years, but that too is a normal occurrence. He gets dressed, grabs his satchel and leaves for breakfast, because that is what he is doing every morning.

When he steps into the common room, something is different though.

“Morning Malfoy.”

He stops in his tracks, baffled for a moment, needing to think about the socially correct response to the person he owes a life debt to. It takes him a moment longer than usual but he finally nods.

“Morning Potter.” There, that should be normal enough. He used to care about Potter's attention, wanting it with a passion if he remembers his first years in school. Now however, there is nothing. But one responds to a cordial greeting and he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself any longer.

“I waited for you. Let’s head to breakfast?” Potter continues to talk as if he has not just upended his entire world. Draco just walks with him, baffled by this development.

“How do you like the new rooms? I think it’s cool that they put all of us together.”

“Really? Even though you now sleep with,” here he can’t help but quote, “slimy Slytherins?” There is not half as much heat in the words as there used to be, he just doesn’t care enough about it, but he needs to respond in some way.

“I never said that.” Potter looks at him strangely. “I wish I could start over with you.”

The answer to that comes natural. “Whatever Potter.” He leaves him standing there in the entry to the Great Hall and steps up to the table that they all occupy. Grabbing a cup of tea, milk, and some toast, because that is what he always used to eat. It doesn’t matter that it tastes like cardboard.

\----------

There is something different about Draco Malfoy. Harry can’t put his finger on it but the Slytherin appears to be a more washed out version of his former self. Yes, he is still short with Harry but his insults lack bite, as if they are more perfunctory than actually heartfelt. Harry can’t stop watching his former rival, and the sight of him so withdrawn tugs on his heartstrings.

“Please, don’t tell me.” Ron groans as he falls into his seat next to him. “You are watching him again?”

“Watching whom?” Hermione chirps in. “Draco? Of course he is. You know what I told you about being supportive!”

“But 'Mione!”

Harry doesn’t listen; he is too busy observing the pale boy as he assembles his workstation for potions. Draco is doing all the right things, but the spark that made up such an integral part of him, seems to have fizzled out.

\--------

Potions used to be fun. Draco remembers that each lesson gave him a bone deep satisfaction. He loved the little twists and quirks that made a potion special. But now he just fakes the enthusiasm that used to be natural. He works, he keeps his head down, he smiles when he thinks it would be appropriate. He scowls where in reality he couldn't care less if Granger wins more points than he does.

Days pass into weeks and before he realises it Halloween is approaching. He doesn’t notice that Harry Potter keeps observing his every move.

\----------------------

“He should be in Azkaban,” she fumes, quietly, coldly, all the more terrifying for the intensity of her anger. “Why can he walk the halls of Hogwarts, when others so much more deserving of being here are dead!”

Walking over the cold stone floor she tears at her red hair.

“I want him to suffer. I want him to feel the pain and despair that he has brought into this school!”

“Oh, there is a way to do that.” The Boy, almost a man, drawls as he slouches onto the makeshift couch.

“How?” There is a world of vengeance promised in that single word.

“Well, I remember that Draco hates nothing more than to lose control.” He grins and there is a promise of pain in his eyes.

“Just let me research it a bit more, and I will come up with the perfect potion. Draco is not the only one who likes the subtle art.”

She smiles at the thought of seeing Draco Malfoy brought to his knees, and by a friend no less.

\----------

Contrary to the belief of most Hogwarts students, Draco doesn’t check his drinks for poison each morning. The way he sees it, if someone is dedicated enough to poison him and put him out of his misery, he will not take that pleasure away from them. Somewhere along the lines he just stopped caring about being alive or dead. He doesn’t taste much when he swallows the tea the elves serve each morning and he goes through the motions of putting food into his mouth. It all tastes of bland nothingness anyway.

So he is more than surprised, when everything changes with his morning tea shortly after Halloween.

As soon as he swallows the warm liquid, warmth spreads though him. Every cell in his body feels alight with want and need honed into the direction of one person. His eyes find the object of his sudden desire and he groans internally. Whoever dosed him with this drug - because he knows that this is not natural attraction, has a sick sense of humour. Or they know him well and tried to play upon his baser instincts. But he has lived with the Dark Lord in his house and learned to ignore everything that was not related to survival.

The impulse to stand up and walk over to the person his body yearns for is strong, but he relishes the simple act of wanting way too much to give in. Draco grins honestly for the first time in ages and decides then and there that he will figure out what kind of potion can induce such feelings before he approaches Harry. Who knows how long the drug will work, and right now feeling alive is more precious than instant gratification.

\------

“Hey, Potter.” Draco breathes deeply as he approaches Harry in the common room that night.

“Yes?” Harry snaps to attention almost instantaneously “Can I help you?”

“Were you serious?” Draco swallows around the lump that seems to have taken residence in his throat, and he feels terribly insecure. As much as he revels in the attraction that he feels for this young man in the chair by the fire, he thinks that feeling this wrong footed is a rather unfortunate side effect of feeling again.

“About what?” Harry enquires when Draco remains rooted to the spot for a while.

“About wanting to start over with me?” Draco mumbles.

“Sit down.” Harry points towards the chair across from him, and his body follows before his mind has caught up with the request. The green eyes focus on his face and Harry must see something that propels him to speak.

“I feel that the war is over and there is no real reason for us to be antagonistic. You have been keeping so much to yourself and I kind of miss our regular interactions. I mean we live together and we want to shape the future together- we should because you are also the leader of your house - well you used to be.” Harry scratches himself behind his ear. ”Not that I really think of myself as a leader, but everybody has assigned me the role.”

Draco feels a burst of warmth spread through his body as he hears such words of recognition from Harry.

“I am no leader, I am nothing anymore.” The words are much more honest than he thought he would be. ”I am just Draco Malfoy, who made too many mistakes in a war.” A bitter smile twists his lips as he realises without the potion in his system he would not even be able to own up to this.

“Draco Malfoy, it is really nice to meet you.” Harry offers his hand. Draco is thrown back to a train ride, when his own hand had been rebuffed so coldly, but he grasps the offered fingers before he can think too much about it. All he knows is that being next to Harry makes him feel warm and safe. That is all that is important right now.

“Fancy going for a flight tomorrow?” Harry grins from ear to ear, and he agrees without thinking too hard about it.

\------------------

Draco knows that without the potion that is cursing through his body, there would be none of the conflicting feelings he is currently experiencing. There is nervous anticipation about the flight that he will be undertaking with Harry later. He just hopes he won’t freak out once he actually gets on the broom. But there is also sorrow, because flying reminds him of Crabbe’s last minutes and the pain he felt at losing him in such a horrible way, guilt for the choices he made in the war and wonder that Harry wants to spend time with him at all.

If he looks very closely at that tumultuous mix churning inside him, there is also happiness because Harry seems to genuinely want to start over with him.

As he walks towards the Pitch with his broom on his shoulder he sees the lone figure looking out onto the field. He doesn’t think much about it, just following the call of the potion as he reaches out towards Harry, and taps him on the shoulder. He has not anticipated that his date would whirl around wand drawn, curse on his lips. Draco jumps back.

“Whoa! Harry, it’s me! We did have a date for flying?” The words come out jumbled and his heart is beating erratically, from the shock.

Harry’s face loses all colour when he realises just whom he is threatening with his wand. Shock hits Harry hard, and he looses his footing. His broom clatters to the floor. Draco lets go of his own broom and catches the crumpling figure. Having an armful of Harry and inhaling his scent wreaks havoc on his senses, and he decides now and there to refrain from touching Harry too much, for as long as he can. The man is intoxicating to him and he berates himself for playing into the potions intent so easily.

“Easy there.” He lowers Harry onto the floor and lets go as much as he can, although Harry all but curls into him and holds on for dear life. It is as if he is somewhere else entirely. Draco keeps making soothing noises and strokes Harry’s back as if he is trying to soothe an injured animal.

It takes a long time for Harry to be himself again. And then he keeps apologizing, when Draco doesn’t want him to.

“I should have warned you. I am not doing well with people coming up behind me.”

“It is ok, no harm done.” Draco refrains from addressing the elephant in the room. If Harry prefers not to talk about his issues he won’t push. “Are we still going to fly?”

“If you want to?” Harry looks so hopeful that Draco has to refrain from something very, very stupid, like just kiss him. But he has more control than this. The potion won’t get him that easily.

“Yes, let’s go flying!” And he is racing through the sky feeling alive. Over the next few weeks he spends more time with Harry, although he is careful not to instigate too much touching. He still hasn’t figured out what potion he has been given and he doesn’t want to take any chances.

He also realises that he is definitely not the only one with issues left from the war, more than once he gently wakes Harry from nightmares or sees him withdrawn into himself. Harry is unreachable when he is in that state, and either Draco or Hermione just wait it out with him. It is during one of their vigils that she asks about their relationship, and Draco answers her truthfully.

“Well, Harry and I are complicated.”

“You know that he loves you,” she puts it bluntly and Draco finds himself gaping at her.

“Excuse you? Why would you out your best friend to me? How can you assume that Harry and I have been talking about this?”

She blushes deeply, but stands her ground. “Because he told me. He also said that you are taking it slow, I am sorry, if I made you uncomfortable.”

“I am sorry, too. I should have known that Harry talks to you about this.” Draco shrugs. “I am fond of him, very much so. And yes, I am very attracted to him, but that is all that you need to know about us.” He smiles at her when he says it, and receives a cautious smile in return. They sit quietly until Harry snaps out of it again and Hermione refrains from prodding again.

Draco keeps researching, but hasn’t found out yet what he has been given. He wonders if he’ll ever figure it out, because it gets harder and harder to ignore the potion and the lust it ignites in his body every time he is close to Harry.

\---------------

Things come to a head on a night when Draco lets his guard down too much.

He has not meant to stay quite as long with Harry, Draco is no saint and being with him for an extended period of time makes it incredibly hard to refrain from touching. The potion still in his system keeps whispering in his head to take it further. Touching warm skin makes it even harder not to give in and just jump him. But tonight they just talked and talked for hours, before they realise that nobody was with them in the dorm. Harry touches Draco’s face gently almost reverently, before he can move away.

“Can I kiss you?” The whisper is a gust of warmth on his skin, and he immediately feels as if he is burning from within. He knows logically that he still does not know what kind of potion he ingested and how it really works, but he is only human and he can’t resist any longer so he simply nods. Harry’s lips are chapped and a bit dry but at the same time so soft that Draco feels immediately addicted.

Quickly the kiss grows from shy to bold and Draco pulls Harry back onto his bed. Every rational thought has gone out of the window. All he does is feel. It is such a glorious thing, to have every nerve ending alight with want. He gasps for air, unwilling to be separated from this wonderful mouth for something as mundane as breathing.

Harry pulls back, but his hands don’t stop touching Draco for a second. Draco just looks at the man in bed with him for a second, his own hands exploring the soft skin that has been exposed already, but it is not enough, not nearly.

“Please.” He is almost incoherent, he only knows that he needs more, more of this scent and taste, glorious warmth and fire that is Harry in bed with him.

Harry complies with his begging, giving himself as much as taking Draco apart. Quickly he seals them away behind the blinds of his bed and divests Draco from his clothes. Only when every inch of creamy skin has been revealed to his greedy eyes, does he stop for a second to strip himself.

“Are you sure?” He smiles softly at Draco.

“Yes, touch me.” Draco arches towards Harry, yearning for the warm touch which ignites a fire underneath his skin.

When Harry shyly touches his furled opening, Draco almost flies off the bed, his body reacts so strongly.

“Have you done this before?” Harry asks while stroking the tender skin.

“No. There was no one I wanted this with.” Draco gasps. “Lube…” He is not really coherent but he wants to feel Harry inside him, any way Harry is willing to indulge him.

“Please I want you!”

Harry takes his time, stroking his channel with warm fingers, touching a spot inside of him that makes his heart race faster, and makes him see stars.

After what feels like an eternity of writhing on fingers alone and drinking in kisses, Harry pulls them out gently, and strokes his cock. Draco smiles at the expression on Harry’s face.

“Come inside.” It is so easy to spread his legs and offer his body up for the taking. Harry won’t hurt him. He is the epitome of warmth and love and it feels right to give himself to this man.

It feels a bit uncomfortable at the first penetration, but the burning sensation gives way to pleasure quickly.

Draco has no idea how long their lovemaking goes on, but his orgasm hits him by surprise, and he just reacts by holding on even tighter to Harry, who follows him over the edge quickly. Once Harry slips out he cleans both of them with a gentle cleaning spell, and pulls Draco close to himself. Before Draco is claimed by sleep he sends a prayer to whichever deity that may listen, that nothing has changed once morning comes.

\-----------

As soon as he wakes, he knows that the potion has stopped working. No longer does he feel as if Harry is the sun beckoning him. The urge to touch and to be as close as possible, yes, even to crawl into Harry’s skin to get near him - simply evaporated. What is left is embarrassment and shame. Shame that he allowed a good person to be drawn into this scheme, that he put his own selfish desire to feel above the pain he will probably cause Harry. But even that is more than the dull feeling of before. As if an ember of the raging fire that has consumed him for the last months is still there. So he lies stock-still, waiting for the moment of Harry’s waking. He owes him the explanation - owes him the truth. Thinking about the fact that Harry will probably withdraw the easy relationship they have formed over the last few weeks, now that he has no physical desire in him any longer.

It feels like hours when in reality only a few minutes can have passed. Harry’s awakening is like that of a lion. He stretches luxuriously, and pulls Draco’s body close, as if he is prey to be indulged in. He peppers kisses onto his nape and nuzzles the warm skin. His hands roam over Draco’s skin still warm from sleep and he doesn’t know what to do. How to let Harry know that everything has changed. Harry does not immediately realise that Draco lies rigidly in his arms. But Draco notices when Harry becomes aware that something is wrong.

“Hey.” Concerned eyes roam over his face “Are you ok? Do you regret our night?”

“No.” The word is ripped from him.

“Then what's going on?” Harry removes his arms from him, but still stays close to him.

“I think I have been dosed with a lust potion.” He has to say it like this.

“What?” Harry almost jumps out of the bed. “You what?”

“Someone gave me a lust potion, and it did not work as expected.” Draco forces himself to speak. “I didn’t go crazy with lust immediately. But there was more feeling before than there is now after being with you.” He feels his cheeks flood with colour.

“So you would have not wanted to be with me without this?” Harry whispers.

“I probably would not have approached you without the potion.” Draco chooses to be honest.

“Are you even gay?” Harry grinds out and there is a horror in his eyes that makes Draco wince.

“Yes, I am gay as you well know! Where does that come from? I am so sorry that you got hurt through this.” Draco is desperate by now. “I enjoyed our time together so much…” He can still recall the joy even if he doesn’t feel it right now.

By now Harry has gotten up and began to dress himself.

“Just leave me alone for a bit. I can’t talk to you right now.” With that he is out of the door, and Draco is left alone feeling empty and lost.

\-------------

Hermione finds him curled up behind a statue, long after Harry has stormed out of their dorm. He doesn't even remember how he got there after walking aimlessly for what felt like hours.

“So, here you are.” She looks at him for what feels like an eternity, but Draco has no idea what she is thinking.

“I am not hiding,” he states flatly. “I just have no energy to move.”

“Harry is pretty messed up,” Hermione states just as flatly.

“I know. I messed up.”

“Oh.” She seems surprised at his statement, as if she expected him to defend himself. They sit in silence for a while, but when it becomes too oppressive she suddenly asks.

“Was any of it real?”

“I thought that would have been your very first question.” He breathes deeply remembering that she tolerates him for Harry's sake. “You tell me.” His laugh sounds bitter.

“I wanted to be close to him, spend time with him, because with him I felt alive. Merlin, I tried so hard not to sleep with him, and be satisfied with our friendship. But yesterday I couldn’t hold on any more and gave in, and now everything is back to how it was before.”

“Really, everything?” Hermione looks at him.

“No.” Draco is surprised when he finds that this is the truth. Yes, the fog is back, but there is also a spark that is still yearning for Harry’s company. “He changed something.”

“Is it worth fighting for?” She touches his arm, before he can answer the question, she continues on, “He is in the unused potions room. Just so you know…”

And with that she leaves him on the floor.

\---------

“What I don’t understand is why you acted on the impulse, when you knew something was wrong.” Harry looks so crushed, that a part of Draco stirs with the impulse to reach out.

“Have you ever heard of Anhedonia?” He looks straight at the wall.

“Anhe what?” Harry is fully focused on him now and despite being in the almost same situation that he was before the potion, Draco feels a bit warmer being the sole focus of that warm gaze. It reaches something within him that he believed dead and gone.

“Anhedonia is a symptom of depression. It basically means that you are unable to feel. I walked around in a fog. Nothing could touch me. I couldn’t verbalize what was going on. Tried to just fake the emotions where they were appropriate, before I got administered that potion. And it was the worst feeling in the world. I didn’t know what it was though, until I started to research the potion.”

“So, you are sick?”

“Harry, we all are sick in a sense. We all underwent trauma, severe trauma and they left us alone with it. We are kids and they left us to deal with this on our own.”

“But I'm not depressed!” Harry protested.

“No you are just extremely skittish and suffer from nightmares, and episodes where I can’t get through to you - you have probably PTSD and don’t even know it. And let’s not even talk about your self-worth issues. I mean you jumped from me being under a potion, to me not being gay at all immediately. If that doesn't say something about you, then I don't know. No potion would turn me straight. I like you, if you can believe it.” Draco held up his hand. “We are not supposed to know this and diagnose ourselves, but we would have needed help. At least a mind healer should have assessed all of us, before we came back to school, into an environment that stressed all of us immensely and that also triggers severe feelings of guilt. At least for me.”

Draco looks so very tired at that moment that Harry just can’t help himself, he pulls him into his arms and holds on.

“I know, I hurt you, and I am so sorry, but when the potion kicked in I felt alive for the first time in months, and I hoped that maybe being with you would help me overcome my problems. Instead, I caused even more for you.”

“So, now that the potion is gone, you don’t feel anything again?”

“I don’t feel a lot, but I know that you care deeply for me, and that makes me want to get better, because I have come to care for you as well. I don’t feel physical attraction right now. It's as if my libido has decided to take a holiday in Iceland.” Draco tries a feeble joke and turns towards Harry's chest as he continues to speak. “But I want to feel that passion again, I want to want you again. Not even my mother made me want to get better, so there is something special about this thing between us. I can’t promise you that it will be fast, but I will try. I don’t want to jump your bones, but you make me feel warm again when there was only cold and numbness before.”

Draco doesn’t even realize that tears have escaped his eyes and make their way down his cheek until Harry wipes them away with a tenderness that tightens his chest.

“I love you Draco, that is not going to change just because you are ill. You just said it yourself, we are both pretty broken but with you I feel like I am a little less broken and I want to figure out what we can be together.. So, maybe we need to work on getting better together. Sex is only a tiny part of us, and while I enjoyed our night together, it is not the only thing I love about you.”

Draco snuggles into Harry's shoulder, and the arm that wraps tighter around him anchors him and warms him deeply.

The quietness that envelops them is broken when Hermione puts her head into the room and orders them both into the Headmistress office.

\----------------

Draco is not surprised at the two figures that are situated in front of the Headmistress desk.

“Headmistress.” He nods towards the woman behind the desk.

“It seems that Mr Zabini and Miss Weasley have been overheard and seen dropping a potion into your drink.”

Draco looks at his former friend, but there is no anger.

“The potion did not even work,” Blaise says.

Draco blinks at him. “What did you think would happen?”

Blaise shrugs. “I thought you would lose control for a bit. It wasn’t really harmful, and not permanent. You got off scot free and I thought a bit of punishment was what was needed. You hurt so many people and never even said sorry!”

“So, you thought, that if you humiliated me, that would make you feel better?” Draco is not judging, his voice monotone, he is so tired, so exhausted. Harry wraps his arm around his shoulder again. It feels familiar and comforting in a way that he doesn’t want to give up. Ginny starts to rant at him.

“How is it fair that you are walking free, that nothing happened to your family, apart from paying a paltry sum! Your Father is in Azkaban, but he will be out in 5 years, and without the Dementors that is nothing! My brother is dead! He will never come back, and my other brother is going mad with grief. I thought giving you a taste of your own medicine would be what I needed.”

“But it didn’t make you feel better.” Draco looks at her.

“It didn’t work.” Ginny looks away. “You took the potion and then you just went on with your life.”

“It worked.” Draco looks at Blaise. “Just not as you were expecting. While you all thought that I was ok, I was not.” He swallows. ''I have been suffering from anxiety and depression for most of the last two years.”

“Oh,” Blaise just utters. “So…”

“Ironically, the potion you gave me to humiliate me, gave me a resemblance of normalcy. I felt something for the first time in forever, and while it was wrong of me to not tell Harry what was going on I was selfish enough to want to hold on to this.”

Draco straightens and looks at his former friend. “Do you have any idea what it is like, not to feel anything? To have no pleasure in any social situation? To have no joy in eating, touching or sex? All I felt was numbness and I might as well have been dead for all I knew. I deserve your anger. I get that, but to feel warmth again, to want to be close to someone, to enjoy talking to someone. I know you didn’t intend anything good - but it was so wonderful, to feel this for Harry.”

“Are you going to press charges?” Headmistress McGonegall inserts into the conversation.

It is quiet in the office for a long time after that. One could probably hear a needle drop, and Draco looks at the Headmistress until she turns her eyes away. Ginny looks so small in her chair, broken in another way.

“What good would it do?” Draco takes a deep breath. “It would not make anything better, and frankly I am not in a position where I take pleasure in petty revenge. Blaise is right, that I hurt many people and never said sorry. He went about it wrong, but he is not entirely wrong.”

Headmistress McGonagall looks as if she wants to say something but he is not done yet. Harry’s quiet presence next to him gives him the strength to continue. To voice what should have been said before.

“You have made us all come back to a place, where we experienced deep trauma, all of us no matter which side we were on. And then you just expect us to deal with it? To be resilient enough to forget about the horrors we have seen and had to live through? At the very least I would have expected mandatory counselling for us.” He looks up at the row of headmasters and all of them look conflicted.

“In the end we are young, and we have been hurt badly. The adults in our lives have failed to understand us, and hoped we would just get over it on our own. I don’t blame Blaise for wanting to ease Ginny’s pain. I blame you for not trying to help us work through the problems.” He looks at Minerva and sees her face ashen and old.

“If you want to mete out punishment, make Blaise brew potions for the infirmary and maybe have her help out as well. But no I will not press charges. I would like to work with Blaise on the recipe, trying to figure out if the potion could be used to help alleviate more than just my specific symptoms. And how to make it last beyond the end it has now.”

Harry starts at that. Draco smiles at him and it feels natural for the first time.

“Just because I know what is wrong with me doesn’t mean I don’t want to fix it. I meant it when I said I want to want you again," he whispers so that only Harry hears it. Louder he addresses the woman seated behind the desk.

“Are you willing to work with us, Headmistress?” Draco asks.

“You shame me, Mr Malfoy. I should have realised that you needed help. And I failed you - all of you. Hogwarts has always been a safe place and I completely underestimated what the last few years have done to all of you. I can only apologise and begin to finally do right by you. I will contact St Mungo's to see how to establish regular sessions with professional healers for those in need of assistance,” She addresses Blaise and Ginny. “I will go with the suggestions that Mr Malfoy has made. So, you both will work for the infirmary until the end of your schooling here and will attend mind healing sessions.”

She waves them out of the room and Draco allows Harry to pull him outside by the hand. It feels warm and right.

“Blaise do you still have some of that potion left?” He calls out when they are just outside.

“Yes, why?”

“I would like to take another dose, maybe half to see how it affects me now that we…” he blushes and wonders if that is another after-effect of the potion.

Blaise simply pulls a vial out of his robe, hands it over and leaves. Right now that is more than Draco expected. They are still at the beginning of healing. Harry’s hand is warm, curled around his and that is more than he felt at the beginning of the year.

\------------------

Ever since the war has ended, he has been walking in a fog. But now the sun has begun to peak through the fog. She is hidden in the potion he is now officially taking regularly in a lower dosage. It makes him feel almost normal. Because they still haven’t managed to figure out how to make it last beyond sexual intercourse, Harry and he are not engaging in penetrative sex often. They already found out that he always needs a higher dosage if it was worked entirely from his system. Pomfrey is monitoring the use closely, afraid he might become addicted and scolded him the last time it happened. But being close to Harry, wanting to kiss him and simply enjoying his physical presence already feels like a victory.

Harry was at first concerned that he only wanted him sexually because of the potion, but Blaise confessed that it didn’t work that way. It only amplified existing attraction to the point of madness, at least in the original purpose. So, if there hadn’t been something there it would not have done anything. But without this to work from it would have been much harder to recreate the potion to the extent that it works as a mild antidepressant for other students that are suffering from the aftermath of the war. And there are so many of them.

Now it is so much easier to talk about his issues when he has access to his feelings and is not walking through fog.

He often sits with Harry near the shore of the lake, just enjoying the sun on his face and the solid warmth of his boyfriend. Ginny and Blaise are mostly ignoring him, but Blaise has begun to talk about the issues he encountered with his mother during the war, and once told him about the nightmares Ginny has. It doesn’t make it right but he understands them better.

All in all not much has changed since the summer, while everything is different at the same time. He wakes, attends class, eats, does his assignments and goes to bed. He doesn’t think that this will change until the end of his eight year.

And that is exactly as he wants it to be right now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please support the author by clicking on the kudos button and leaving a comment below! ♥


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